


Kinkade Gives Allura A Crash Course on Blackness

by squick



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aliens, Allura is an alien but she's also a black girl so jot that down, Black Character(s), Friendship, Omar is the only black person in a 100mi radius and he's STARVING for CONTACT, Omarion Kinkade, his name is Omarion Kinkade. we know this, i never watched s8 and i assure you i will not and also that i do not care, lets make one thing clear: idgaf about Voltron. only the coloreds within it, movies - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 14:25:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17427620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squick/pseuds/squick
Summary: Allura hasn't felt like a part of something for a long while. This, she and Kinkade have in common.Or: Kinkade makes a mistake, but it's a good one.





	Kinkade Gives Allura A Crash Course on Blackness

The Galra were more or less a crash course on aliens, but there was still a lot that we didn’t know. 

 

Like, how human some aliens looked.

 

Years of being the only Black cadet at the Garrison will do things to you, and to be honest, when I saw the pretty Black girl hop out the wrangler, I didn’t question the pink glowing face marks or the white hair. I processed skin, I processed proximity, and I took her hand without thinking. A low-five, turned back hand, turned fist bump, turned comforting grip, into a soft embrace (back pat included) leapt from my body’s muscle memory, full of the pent up eagerness of having been unable to do this for so long.

 

“Wassup, sis?” I said, still holding her close.

 

“Um. E-Excuse me?” She said.

 

I’d never met a Black girl with that accent before. Was gonna ask her about that. 

 

But then there was a lot of noise, a lot of pulling me back, a lot of comments about me needing to “back off”, about “who do I think I am?”, about “don’t touch the princess!”, and it then occurred to me that maybe she and I weren’t exactly the same. 

 

Shit broke my heart.

 

\- - -

 

For how touchy they all were about her, the princess was usually weirdly unguarded and curious. She asked a lot of questions about earth, but I wasn’t one for talking in front of crowds, and usually someone else would answer her anyway. She was all for checking out the tech, the weapons, the vehicles that we had. Every question was usually just, “what’s this?” while pointing or staring intently at something. It was cute. She acted like she’d die if she didn’t get answers right away. She gaped and smiled and asked for more information whenever someone told her. She pouted when someone didn’t know everything. She had to have answers. She had to learn it all.

 

But apparently there was one answer she couldn’t - or didn’t? I don’t know. - get from anyone else. 

 

There was this one day, a really chill day, when I’m minding my business walking back to my quarters, and she’s walking the opposite direction, scoping out everything around her. I’m ready to just pass her by - really, I am - when she goes.

 

“Oh! Kinkade. Kinkade, right?” 

 

By this point I know she’s an alien but god, I don’t know how that accent can sound so familiar and foreign at the same time.

 

I stop and look at her. She looks at me. She holds a hand out. I, confused, reciprocate.

 

She doles out a low-five, turned back hand, turned fist bump, turned comforting grip, into a soft embrace (back pat included). I just go along with it because again, my brain just short circuits and does what it’s used to. I finish hugging the princess. I’m freaking out. I’m in a cold sweat. What the hell just happened.

 

She is still holding my hand, frowning at both of ours entwined together before she looks up at me, bright-eyed. “What  _ is _ this thing? No one else has done this to me since I’ve been here - I figure it’s some sort of greeting ritual, naturally, but even Lance hasn’t taught me this one. Though he did explain the high-five to me! And the fist-bump. I think I understand all of the parts individually, but why in  _ this _ particular order? And altogether, do they mean something?”

 

I stare at this girl, this crazy beautiful girl, and I fuck up and laugh. Right in her face, holding her hand. She’s killing me with that one. 

 

I’m pretty sure only Nadia’s seen me laugh before. I don’t usually break that easy. Damn.

 

By the time I pull my shit together, she’s looking confused and we’re still holding hands. I pull mine back. “It’s called a dap, sis. How we say hi to each other.” 

 

“Sis?” I could practically see the questions running through her brain. “I’m… sis? Why am I sis? And who’s we?”

 

I wasn’t sure what to say. I nodded my head side to side, juggling my options here. “Those questions would take a really, really long time to unpack.” 

 

“I’ve got time.” She said.

 

I stared at her. She stared back. I felt like she might want something else to think about for a while - you know, besides, the whole intergalactic war thing she was handling. I shrugged.

 

“Aight, let’s walk and talk.”

 

\- - - 

 

As she followed me from the mess hall, she tried her best to sum up what earth had to offer.

 

“So even though I am  _ certainly not _ of African descent… people will assume that I am,”

 

“Correct.”

 

“And likely make unfair judgements about me based upon it?”

 

“Correct.”

 

“So even though I don’t have any actual genetic relation to you, or other people that look like  _ us _ , you too consider me one of you, because I will, in effect, have to live out the same lifestyle as you in the eyes of people in power.”

 

“One hundred percent correct.”

 

I’m not like, a history buff or anything, but I was smart as hell in these educational moments. A rundown on the slave trade, the diaspora, Jim Crow, segregation. Over the course of a few days, yeah, but still way more information in a way shorter amount of time than I was given in middle school. But the girl is like a sponge. You say anything and she remembers it, processes it, can regurgitate it back in a second. Must be the alien brain or something.

 

“Well that… is unfortunate.” She said.

 

“That… is an understatement.” I said, mimicking her tone.

 

She bumped against me intentionally, almost knocking the empanada out of my hand. “I haven’t exactly  _ lived _ that life.”

 

“Yet.” I added on. “Also, if you make me drop this empanada, you owe me your life.”

 

She bumped against me again.

 

“ _ Enough _ .” I groaned, pushing her back. “I will never speak to you again if you put my lunch in danger one more time.”

 

“Oh, you’d die if you couldn’t speak to me.”

 

“I made it this far.”

 

“ _ Barely _ . James says that you don’t talk.” Allura made a face. “ _ And yet _ ,”

 

I grimaced. “And James  _ also _ says that my name is Ryan. And yet.”

 

Allura paused, silent for a second. “But… But your name  _ is _ Ryan.”

 

“Who said that?”

 

“ _ James _ did!”

 

“Oh. Yikes. Yeah, no.” I took another bite of the empanada, basking in the perfect crust. “James thinks my name is Ryan. Most people here do, I think, actually.”

 

“Why are you being so… cryptic about this?” She asked me.

 

I gave her a sideways glance, licking a finger. “Look. As far as James Griffin is concerned, my name is Ryan. But not for you. Oh, hell no.”

 

“Then what  _ do _ I call you?”

 

I grinned. “Omarion’s my name. Omarion Kinkade. Omar for short.”

 

“So you’re… Omar?”

 

“For you? Absolutely.”

 

\- - -

 

So we’re Friday, Beauty Shop, and Coming to America deep in my room when she says, tears in her eyes,

 

“But these films are so funny? You make being Black sound so hard - it just looks fun from these.” She thinks twice as she tries to wipe the tears away. “To be clear: I see the struggles being outlined in these works. But they end so happy or funny. I don’t know that I’m learning the right lessons from these.”

 

“ _ Baby sis _ ,” I began my reprimand.

 

“Again, I am more than ten thousand years old, and  _ will _ outlive you.”

 

“And yet in this moment, I am so much wiser and taller than you.” I brushed her off. “As I was saying. Baby sis. I’ve just been choosing the happy ones. I mean, I didn’t want to hit you with Roots from the jump. You’d just be sad. And also sleepy.”

 

“R-Roots?”

 

“If you want sad shit I can give you sad shit. Just say the word.” I leaned back against the bed. “And we ain’t even started on the literature. Eyes Were Watching God’ll get you fucked up every time - but I like movies better so I just been showinem to ya.”

 

Allura bit her lip, thinking. “I mean, I feel like, to grasp the reality of things, I need to see the sad bits too, right?”

 

“Right.” I agreed.

 

“So… we should. We should watch those films as well.”

 

“Brave.” I joked. “We can start with Set it Off since you already liked Beauty Shop and Lati’s in that too… we can work our way up to Fences. Toss in some Straight Outta Compton before we get to Thirteenth.”

 

“I have no clue what any of that means, but alright.” She said with a shrug, snuggling back under the covers. “I also want to hear more music. I really like the music.”

 

“We can watch Dreamgirls too.”

 

“Is that music?”

 

“It’s got Beyonce.”

 

“Oh! I like her. Yes, let’s watch that one.”

 

“Whatever you say, princess.”

 

She threw a pillow at my head. “Omar, you don’t have to call me that.”

 

“Whatever you say, pri- OW”

 

\- - -

 

So maybe things were bad aboard the Atlas, and maybe I had no ability to read the mood, and maybe the world was going to collapse under a thousand realities or some metaphysical shit that I didn’t understand,

 

But damn it, Allura was going to see Beat Street if it’s the last thing she did.

 

She likes the dance and music movies. She loves that performing artsy stuff. Of course, I think they’re kinda cheesy, but this wasn’t about me. 

 

I’d never seen the girl so scared before.

 

“So they paint pictures and words on walls, and that’s illegal here?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“But I think they look very nice.”

 

“We  _ all _ do, Loo. That’s the point. That’s the drama of it all.” I continued explaining as she crawled over to sit next to me on the floor. “The real antagonists are Spit, and the cops. ‘Cause all they’re doing is ruining art that ain’t even hurting nobody.”

 

“Got it.” Allura nodded, watching as one of the battle dances started.

 

“And see, this movie was a big deal for our community, because it was honest hip-hop culture. That was the 80s, we were all about breakdancing and graffiti and rap. All this different cultural shit coming together to make us, in this mediocre ass movie. We  _ had _ to love it.” I joked. She laughed. That was a relief.

 

“And  _ that _ ,” She pointed to one of the men on the screen. “Is Ramo.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Like in the Biggie song.”

 

“Yes.”

 

She huffed, pushing against my shoulder. “Then  _ spoilers _ , I already know how it’s going to  _ end _ .”

 

I pushed back. “ _ Yeah _ , but you didn’t see how it happens, or what happens after. That’s what makes the movie fun. Not just where it ends up.”

 

She looked down, nodded, frowning. She was thinking again. About all the shit that I couldn’t understand. Didn’t know how to help her since I didn’t really get any of it.

 

I bumped against her a couple more times, trying to get her attention until she lifted her chin to give me a look full of agitation, our faces close together.

 

“ _ What _ , Omar?”

 

“There,” I said, grinning. “Is also this one other movie you gotta see. It’s a horror.”

 

“A horror movie?!” She said, her face lighting up as she jumped up on her knees. “Oh! Oh! I love those! They’re so exciting! They get your heart beating so fast! It’s so nice to experience adrenaline without any real  _ risk _ every now and then!” She paused then, looking confused. “But I don’t know if that… goes along with our motif..? Is it a Black movie or just another one where the Black guy dies?”

 

“ _ That _ is exactly what made it so iconic, my love. The Black guy is the main character this time around.”

 

“ _ No! _ ” Allura shouted, amazed.

 

“ _ Yes _ .” I replied.

 

“How does it end?”

 

“Wait, wait, wait.” I turned back to the screen, my attention immediately drawn in by  _ Electric Avenue  _ blasting from the speakers. “You’re gonna miss the part when Ramo dies, look, look.”

 

“Ahhh!” She complained, but also immediately looked at the screen.

 

Ramon chased Spit down the tracks, with Kenny following not too far behind. Kenny’s foot got stuck in the track. Spit tried to climb off and onto the platform, but Ramo snatched him back down. Kenny got up. Ramo and Spit fell, Spit still spraying paint in Ramo’s face. They land on the third rail, sparks, and they’re both gone. 

 

Allura gasps. I’m stoic - I’m used to it, I’ve seen it before. She still has her hands on my shoulder, squeezing a little as Kenny cries for his friend onscreen. The movie fades into the final scene: essentially a big ass party in Ramo’s memory. It doesn’t make a whole ton of sense, but it’s a nice ending. It’s technically a happy ending. 

 

Allura spends the six minute song session kind of dancing to it, mostly staring in awe at the outfits and dance moves. She just kinda bops her head in this cute way, sometimes gets her shoulders into it. It’s adorable, like she doesn’t really know how into it she can afford to be.

 

The credits roll and she immediately turns to me again.

 

“How does it end, how does it end?” 

 

I laughed at her, at how damn happy she was about this. She still didn’t forget about the horror movie, I guess. “It’s actually got two endings. Depends which one I decide to show you.”

 

“ _ Nooo _ …” She whined grabbing my arm. “You  _ have _ to tell me!”

 

“Don’t, won’t.” I replied, still chuckling as she tried to physically shake the answers out of me.

 

“ _ Omarion Kinkade _ , you  _ will _ tell me -”

 

An alarm. Sounded. It was time to deploy. I saw her face drain, saw the joy drop out of it. 

Obviously this kind of thing stressed her out. It was a bigger fight for her than any of us. I couldn’t fully understand it. But I could understand when she was sad. 

 

She’d been pretty sad, all in all.

 

“Loo.” 

 

She looked at me, fear in her eyes.

 

I helped her up. I held a hand out. She smiled. A weak one, but a smile. 

 

Low-five, turned back hand, turned fist bump, turned comforting grip, into a soft embrace (back pat included). It’s natural for both of us now. It’s no longer out of practice. I keep holding her.

 

“You go handle this shit once and for all, aight? We get back, we can watch whatever the hell you want.”

 

Allura heaved in a deep breath, then threw her arms around me, resting her head on my chest. She shook her head, then looked up at me.

 

“I don’t think I’m the girl you hoped that I was. But it has been so, so long since I’ve been a part of something. Something that won’t ask me to die for it, anyway.” She shook her head again. “Something that takes me for who I am, and not what I can offer.”

 

“Cut that shit out or imma cry.” I warned her, very really feeling tears behind my eyes. “It’s not even a big deal like that. You’re one of us.”

 

“Yes. That.” She hugged me again, and I could feel her body shaking. “I missed that.”

 

Then she pulled away, and started backing through my door. “You make really good food. I am so happy I got to eat macaroni and cheese!”

 

“Oh my god.”

 

“And I never thought something as simple as… as rice and  _ peas _ could be so delicious.”

 

“The alarm is ringing.” I turned her around and pushed her out into the hall. “You have a universe to save. We will watch Get Out when you get back. I will see you later, Loo.”

 

She looked at me once more, her shoulders dropping as she heaved a deep breath, smiling.

 

“Bye, Omar.”

 

\- - -

**Author's Note:**

> dw i'll never write a vld fic again


End file.
